Seriously Considering Renaming Myself Sirius Pink
by Contra Mundi
Summary: Lucius Malfoy has proposed to Narcissa Black and this sparks off a huge clan wedding. Naturally, her cousin Sirius will be involved. Even more naturally, so will his friends.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sirius is absolutely _thrilled_. There's a huge clan wedding, celebrating the linkage (leakage?) of Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy. _Insert wild hoots of joy and much manic dancing!_ But no, it's not entirely sarcasm. Sirius would do anything to get rid of as much of his family as possible alright, alright, maybe he does wish Narcissa some joy, as much joy as she can get from that obscene mumble prig - but with the inclusion of his friends and an impending war and much tension, will the wedding go off without a hitch?

A/N: Aha, I steer away from the traditional waters of OCs and Severus Snape to write a Sirius fic! I mean, a seriously Sirius fic, all about Sirius, yes, yes, bad pun, I know. It's night - it's late, what do you expect? Reviews muchly appreciated.

Lucius Malfoy looked down at his plate. Half the lobster still uneaten, as well as some very, _very_ expensive sauce that was apparently made out of basilisk tears and the heart of a unicorn - it cost so much. He looked back up at Narcissa Black.

"Narcissa..."

"Hm?" She looked up at him, and smiled, a little shyly for all they had been dancing around each other for two years. "I'm sorry, Lucius, did I miss something?"

"Well, no, not as such actually. I was just wondering if you're going to eat the chocolate mousse..." Not for nothing was that dessert termed 'Genocide By Chocolate'.

"Do you want it?" Narcissa pushed it towards him. "I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood for sweets tonight." She really meant, of course, that she was watching her figure. Narcissa had a sweet-tooth and also a slim figure - both of which were not exactly compatible.

"What?" sputtered Lucius. His icy calm was still maturing, he hadn't yet reached the point where nothing would disturb the frozen surface. 

"Is there something wrong?" Narcissa raised a fine, blonde eyebrow.

"I've just gone and put a wedding ring in that thing, for lord's sake. I should've put it in the salad, I know, but really..." Lucius's pale cheeks tinged slightly with red. "... the books seemed to think chocolate was much more... romantic..."

Narcissa prodded the dessert with a spoon. Her cheeks were red. "And if I'd choked on it?"

"Mouth to mouth resuscitation, I presume," said Lucius with a sneer and a shrug.

"Well, I accept, anyway," said Narcissa, pushing at the mounds of creamy chocolate.

"Pardon?" Yes, Lucius Malfoy was aristocratic! Any pleiebian would have said 'what?' most undesirably.

Narcissa frowned as she patted the chocolate down. "Your wedding proposal, which I presume is addressed to me." She glared, for a moment at a very pretty waitress. "Unless... are you sure the staff here haven't filched it? Only I've been digging for quite a while now and there's no sign of any..."

"Wha- pardon? I mean, of course it's addressed to you!" Lucius sighed, pushing his silvery hair back. "Look harder, I'm sure it must be there somewhere."

He leaned over to better see what she was doing, and spotted the glint. "Unless I'm not mistaken, that's where it is."

"Are you certain? It looks a little like a sugar violet to _me_."

"Well, I got amethyst for you," snapped Lucius. Purple for the first time he had seen her, arrayed all in varying shades of lavender and deep, royal purple so that the fairness of her skin, hair and eyes had stood out like a beacon. She hadn't been _beautiful_, or even pretty, but striking certainly, in that dress with a rather snooty nose.

"Oh." Narcissa scooped it up. "Oh yes, here it is." The ring was golden in the candlelight, glimmering and setting off the deep stone to perfection. There were clumps of chocolate still clinging. Narcissa wiped it off with the napkin. "Shall you do the honors, or shall I?"

"I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't," said Lucius, smiling slightly as he reached out for the ring and slipped it onto her finger. They admired it together, her hand in his, the ring shining there. "Our families will be pleased," added Lucius.

"And you?"

Lucius looked up at her, a little surprised. She was watching him, a little anxiously. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Are you pleased too? You, Lucius Malfoy, not your family."

He had to think about that. His family had pushed him so violently towards Narcissa that really, he'd never thought about not marrying the fair girl. But two years of getting to know her, the way her nose wrinkled when she was trying not to laugh, the lift of her neck as when she puffed with pride. "Yes," he admitted. "I'm quite pleased. And you?"

"I am too," she said, smiling at him.

Lucius smiled back.

--

'Pleased' was hardly a strong enough adjective to describe the reactions from the Black family. They were a clan with strong, proud passions, as opposed to the Malfoys who were certainly happy, in a frosty way. The Blacks could hate, could love, could _approve_ in a rousing roar.

Sirius Black rolled his blue-grey eyes that changed shade according to the light and to the clothes he wore. Slouched in a chair while all around him, his family and extended family and extended-_extended_ family sloshed in a loud, happy buzz, Sirius felt he was perhaps the only one who wasn't absolutely thrilled.

But then, why wouldn't they be? They were marrying Narcissa off to a well-stocked snob of the finest stock (like cattle). Another one in the battalion of prejudiced muggle-haters.

Sirius was just waiting for a chance to go off to his own room. In a way, he was pleased for Narcissa. The two of them deserved each other. And he was getting rid of another member of the family!

Sirius allowed himself a snide grin there.

Also, the wedding was to be in summer and all the attention would be focussed on _that,_ not on Shame-of-the-Family Sirius Black and his Embarassing Views.

"Congrats, Cissy!" he bellowed, waving at her.

She gave him an amused smirk, and a lifted eyebrow. "Why thank you, cousin."

His mother stopped in her petting of the Engaged Niece. Sirius felt his insides shrivel, for all he was so brazen and bold on the outside. His mother was jealous of her sister, even while the marriage was Good for the Family. She was upset because _her_ side hadn't proven very much, the fruits of her loins. Sirius shuddered inside, feeling a little like the prince in the fairy tale with a parade of pampered heiresses in front of him.

"Well, maybe you'll be next, hmm, Sirius?" said his aunt with pointed malice, smirking at her sister.

His mother just snorted.

Sirius escaped up to his room after a while. He stood by the window and stared out at the black, cold night - the stars frozen points of light in the sky. Then he went to sleep.

Sirius nibbled on his quill. It was, unfortunately, not a sugar quill. Kreacher had taken his private stash away, ostensibly because it would make his teeth rot. Sirius gritted his pearly-whites, feeling a rush of anger sweep over him. With the irritation, came inspiration and Sirius found himself scribbling a letter to James Potter.

_Heya, Prongsie, _he scribbled, _we finally get rid of Narcissa. Lucius Malfoy proposed to her **finally**, now if only Lestrange would get his act together, maybe Bella the Black will be gone too. There is, of course, going to be a huge clan wedding over the summer. I believe they're going to invite every family in the Wizarding World - that is, the pureblood type, the ones who are on the Right Side of the Neighbourhood. Luckily for me, that means your dad and ma too. Look, see if you can get Remus and Peter to come along too, because if I have to stay here by myself, I'll die. _

_Big, puppy-dog eyes, _  
_Sirius Black._

He folded up the literary masterpiece, and whistled for his owl. He had received the owl for his eleventh birthday, and of course it hadn't been the friendly, amber one he'd seen and wanted on first sight. No, his father had chosen a small, thin, speedy black owl with a large beak. Sirius never saw it but he thought 'Snape'. His owl had the same deep, almost haunted eyes.

"Here you go," said Sirius, politely, not one to take out his ire on innocent animals especially when they had already been cursed with Snape-ish features. 

The owl looked at him, then solemnly stuck out a foot, allowing Sirius to tie the letter. He hooted a little, Sirius fancied that he was telling him not to tie it on too tight. He grinned, ruffling feathers with his free hand. "You alright, Owl?" he asked soliticiously.

"_Hweet_," said most-originally-named Owl. He nibbled at Sirius's fingers in a farewell salutation and then hopped onto the window sill, turning back to regard Sirius with those eyes. "_Hweethweet_."

"Yeah, I'll miss you too." Sirius grinned lopsidedly, with a little salute. Owl leapt off and soared into the night, blending in so Sirius thought he could almost see stars sparking among his feathers. 

Of course, thought a little part of him, the only difference between Owl's eyes and Snape's was that one never gazed at him without a minglement of hate, rage, shame and bitter envy.

No prizes for guessing who.

What might otherwise have been a productive line of thought was interrupted by the creaking of his door as it opened. Bellatrix peeped in, a smile playing over her pink lips.

Amazing, thought Sirius dully, she can even open a door maliciously.

"Not joining in the festivities, Sirius dear?" she asked, entering completely.

Sirius regarded her dully. His cousin was beautiful in a way that appealed to him more than Narcissa's delicate features. Bellatrix Black had dark eyes that flashed fire and mysterious shadow, with long curling eyelashes, a pale complexion. All his cousins, Andromedea, Narcissa had the same white face. Only Bellatrix's skin shone with a pearly luminescence. Women would have sold their souls to the devil to look like her.

Sirius was convinced Bella already had.

"What do you want, now, Bella?" he inquired with pointed politeness. "And say," Sirius added with sudden spiteful inspiration, "when's Lestrange going to get drunk enough to make an honest woman of you, hm?"

Sure enough, his poniard struck. Bellatrix glared at him with a hatred that stirred even a little fear in him. "I'm not even going to pretend that I'm going to forgive you for that cheap crack, Sirius Black," she sneered, tossing her long hair that shone like a shampoo commercial. "Nor am I going to stoop to your level, either, hm? No, no, I'm not going to give you a cheap insult about how you really are the blot on the Black family tree."

Sirius fists clenched. Who needed them? They were only related to him by gallons of blood - _pure_ blood, _blue_ blood. "As if I care about that," he said with a laugh that grated against his heart. "Look, get out, Bella. You know I hate spending more time than I have to with you."

Bellatrix raised on elegant eyebrow. (No matter how Sirius tried, he could never get that snooty one-raise just right. It seemed to be purely a Slytherin trick). "Make me," she purred.

Not the smartest move, but then, Bella wasn't the smartest witch. Sirius's mouth curved in a dangerous smile as he rose to his feet, looming over her by about half a head and Bella was a tall witch. "With pleasure," he said.

Bella snarled at him like a cornered cat.

There came a genteel cough from the doorway. Sirius's arm paused in midflight. He blinked, Bella blinked.

Andromedea Black stood in the doorway, her ginger eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. Like Narcissa, she was more striking than pretty or beautiful. 'Handsome' was the word that came to mind, even when she was all cleaned and made-up. There was a very capable air about her and she had a presence like a poker in a room of delicate china. "What's going on here?"

"Original, Andromedea. Very," grinned Sirius

Her hands were on her hips, even while her rouged lips twitched. "You, Bella?"

"What does it look like?" scowled Bellatrix like a petulant child. "He's going to hit me, isn't he?"

"Yeah, stop that, Sirius," ordered Andromedea.

Sulkily, Sirius dropped his arm. Andromedea had left hook and cross that swung across like an anchor. She gave him a nod of approval, but couldn't leave well alone. "Alright, why don't you two go back down to the party?"

Bellatrix eyed her sister like a cat eyed a canary in a cage. Slowly, she got up and exited, not without giving Sirius a single smouldering look that told him he was going to regret the debacle many times over. Sirius sneered back at her. Andromedea frowned reprovingly at them, very much the maternal relative. She left as well, closing the door quietly.

"_Hweet_."

Sirius's head jerked up. "How long have you been there, Owl?"

The bird gave him an enigmatic little look as he fluttered over to rest in Sirius's lap, sticking his foot out again to have the letter untied. Grumbling under his breath, Sirius undid it.

_Good timing, Paddy m' lad,_wrote James. _The invite just came. I dunno about Moony, or Wormtail but I'm definitely going to be there along with the pater and mater. What say we bring sweet chaos as a wedding gift, eh?_

_PS: You know those eyes don't work on me. I feed them to ravens._

Sirius found a grin splitting his face. Whether it was James's letter, or what he had suddenly decided to give Narcissa for a gift, it was hard to say.

The preparations for the wedding swept on with an unwilling Sirius struggling in the undertow. Narcissa was the youngest of the Black sisters, and the first to get married. Andromedea and Bellatrix got quite a bit of flack for this. Andromedea bore it with her usual disdainful calm, but Bellatrix was visibly, to the practised eye, getting angrier and angrier.

Sirius almost pitied Rodolphus Lestrange.

Almost.

"She's going to propose to him herself, see if he doesn't," remarked Phineas Nigellus superciliously from his frame to his greeat-great (etc) grandson, Sirius Black. "And aren't you supposed to be polishing my robe?"

The young man had taken to hanging around in the long gallery of portraits because that was the most deserted part of the house. He took a little bottle with him, and a rag, and told people he was cleaning the portraits.

"There's only turpentine in here," said Sirius with a snarky grin, waving the small bottle of spray at him. "I'm keeping it for when you people become impudent."

A chorus of indignant voices rang out.

"Impudent, I say!"

"Tis thee art the impudent one, jackanapes!"

"Forsooth!"

"Shoot 'im dead! Bang bang!"

Phineas glared down at his smirking grandson, who was making a rude gesture to a magnificent matron in magenta just opposite. "If I were still headmaster, boy, you'd be squeezing flobberworms for five months."

"Good thing for me you're not, eh?" Sirius grinned at his grandfather, grey eyes twinkling. Phineas Nigellus has to fight not to smile back, keeping his face severe. His charming descendant could charm a fox into returning the chickens. Sirius's smile grew a few teeth wider, "Hey, I'll bet a lot of the girls fancied you, right, you old dog? Sexy goatee and all..."

"Are you trying to _nudge_ me and snicker in a most insinuating way?" said Phineas, allowing himself a smirk and stroking his little beard fondly.

The woman in maroon, the late Araminta Fortesque-Black, humphed angrily and turned her back in a whirl of skirts. "How vulgar you are!"

Sirius was about to mime aiming and flinging a dart at her, but he caught Phineas's eye, and when the old headmaster brought down his cane, Sirius almost flinched before remembering he couldn't be hit. "Now don't be childish, young man," he said calmly. "Tell us all about this wedding now, and perhaps we might not inform your mother."

Sirius pouted. "Pft," he said. "Do I look like a gossip columnist to you?" he said, running a finger through his hair.

If he had been at Hogwarts, hundreds of girls might have fainted on the spot. Not entirely metaphorically either. Sirius rather missed the rustling of sighs. But he missed his friends even more. James's rolling of eyes and Remus's faint smile and Peter's unabashed envy. Heck, he even missed seeing the light shine of Snape's greasy hair and that was saying something!

"Your cousin is about to be wed and that's all you can think of, boy? Severus Snape's _hair_?" sniffed the mildly telepathic portrait of his aunt Matildessa. She had been a celebrated diviner, adept in both occlumency and legilimency. "Who is this Severus Snape?"

"Get outta my head!"

"Ooooohh," chorused the frieze of nymphs rudely.

"Cease this foolery," said a slow, deep voice. The voice of the first Black, Benignus. Normally he was silent in his corner, a dark figure wrapped in a fine embroidered cloak.

His voice, low as it was, seemed to ring off the sides of the corridor, cowing everyone into a chilled silence. Sirius felt a chill run down his spine, raising the hair on his arms.

All in all, he was rather glad that his mother's sharp, strident tones called for him irritably.

That was probably a first.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes, mother?" called Sirius as he skidded into the room, the doors dramatically throwing themselves open as he charmed them to do. Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and Andromedea applauded.

The dressmaker was so surprised that all the pins fell out of her mouth.

His mother frowned at him. "Can't you be a little less barbaric, Sirius?" Walburga Black was seated imperiously on the couch, her legs delicately crossed. With a name like that, little wonder she was such a sour woman; this time, she looked like she was quietly sucking a lemon however, because Narcissa stood before her like the Snow Queen in vast arrays of silk in different shades of white, while Walburga's sister, Druella, Narcissa's mother was smugly overseeing everything.

Slowly, so as not to mess the folds of cloth that would become a dress eventually, Narcissa turned to face him. "Hullo, Sirius," she said, with the usual remote smile she usually bestowed upon him.

Sirius looked around, and found his little brother, Regulus Black lounging in the corner of the room. He was dressed in black, not dusty, undertaker black; but the stylish, shiny black that gleamed like a mockingbird. "Doing your level best to look Byronic, eh, little brother?" sniped Sirius. "Too bad we're slightly lacking in the chin department, eh?"

Regulus flushed. He was as handsome as Sirius, his eyes more blue than grey. Unfortunately, a tendency to lounge, and to look stylishly tired made him more amoeba-like than his older brother. Also, his face seemed directly connected into his neck with very little chinnyness. "Better than having chunky thighs, Sirius. That muggle stuff you insist on wearing just emphasises it, you know."

Sirius looked down at his leather pants. "Why you little -"

"Fight, fight," chanted Bellatrix poisonously under her breath.

Andromedea gave her sister a weary look. "Oh stop that, Bella. And you too, Sirius and Reggie. We're all here to be measured, okay? Bella and I are going to be the bridesmaids."

"Your mother suggested that you and Regulus be sort of honorary bride--men," said Narcissa, in a tone that regelated all the blame onto Walburga Black. The unspoken words were: 'Yes, I'm sorry, you two are going to look like right twits, but I can't do anything about it.'

"Bridesmen?" said Sirius in disgust. "James would laugh me right out of my tux!"

"Who said you're going to be a suit?" said Bella, raising an eyebrow.

"WHAT?!" bellowed both brothers.

"There is absolutely no way -"

"I am NOT wearing a skirt! No, absolutely not -"

"You can't make me!"

"You can't make _us!_"

"That's right! We stand united against skirts! We will not wear them! We're not even Scottish!"

"Kilts and skirts are entirely different things," interjected a sensible voice.

"Shut up, Andromedea!"

"Yeah, shut up, you're not the one who has to wear the skirt!"

She wrinkled her nose at them and stared. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm going to have to wear a skirt."

"Yes, what are _you two_ talking about?" said Narcissa scornfully, while the dressmaker told her timidly to 'turn around slowly please, Ms. Black'. "Of course you're going to be wearing dress-robes."

"And when you come right down to it," said Andromedea, leaning back into the couch, "what's the difference between a skirt and a robe anyway?"

Regulus and Sirius shot her withering glares. "There's all the difference," declared Sirius. "Robes are... robes are... _manly._"

"Maybe we better put them in skirts after all," said Bellatrix with a smirk. "And Andromedea can wear pants."

"Now, now, Bella," said Druella Black indulgently, patting her hand as if instructing her catty daughter to sheathe her claws for now. "Let's not fight. We want darling Cissy's wedding to be _perfect_ don't we?"

Walburga sniffed. "Start measuring them all," she said to the dressmaker sharply. "And then after that we shall want to see some materials for the making of their clothes."

"And then the decorater, and the caterer, sending out more invitations" said Druella smugly. "Oh dear, there's ever so much to do in a wedding."

Walburga shot her sister-in-law a dark look. "Hmmmph," was all she said. But the dressmaker nearly fainted when she said it.

**--**

**Dear Jamie,**

**PLEASE tell me that you can bring Remmy and Pete over. No, on second thought, maybe not. I don't want you lot to see me in the outfit I'm going to have to wear as the bridesman.**

**Sirius.**

_Dear Sirius,_

_Bridesman?! Remus has just declared he will come. Peter wants to know how many frills you have on the hem of your gown._

_James._

**Dear, soon-to-be-departed James,**

**It's not my idea, and there are no frills!**

**Sirius.**

_Dear Sirius-who-wouldn't-know-what-to-do-with-life-if-I-were-gone,_

_Sure there aren't. I think I'll kidnap Snivellus along to see you in your moment of glory too. He ought to forgive us all then, for everything we've put him through. Remus says he will bring a camera. He wants to know if you will be wearing flowers in your hair._

_James._

**Dear former-friends,**

**The only flowers to be seen will be those at your wake. I understand now why Snivvy loathes you.**

**Sirius.**

Sirius Black was sulking by the windowsill. There were no lights on in the room, Sirius liked everything gloomy when he was in a temper (it made him feel Byronic and romantic). The moon shone in, and highlighted his glossy black hair, and made silver of his grey eyes. Idly, his finger made a scritch-scratch on the windowsill as he stared dourly out onto the dark streets below.

His eyes widened. A tall, dark, mysterious figure emerged from the doors of the house and set off down the street. This person knew about stealth, no long, dark, highly noticeable black hoods for them. He, or she, was dressed in a simple long coat, muggle-style, with a cap on, and jeans.

Briefly, the street lights shone, and before the Mysterious One waved a hand to extinguish them, Sirius caught sight of red hair, the carroty shades dulled by night, looking like blood.

He pressed his face against the window, as the figure vanished into the gloom.

The pub was smoky and smelly and quiet obviously meant for the protelariats. The clientele, workmen, and a few wrinkled biddies, good-humored and hard-drinking stood about, or sat on cracked chairs, exchanging rude reminescences. Conversations didn't exactly falter when the tall, obviously expensively dressed woman paused in the doorway; on the contrary, the voices got louder, the laughter more raucous, the cockney accents a little more pronounced.

Andromedea paused tentatively, biting her lower lip. She didn't fit in, she knew. Despite her turtleneck and jeans (which looked too clean and neat and smooth), her fingers were too buttery soft, her voice a little too high and posh. At home she was looked down on by the members of her set for being a little too rough and ready, and among the working class, she was too high and mighty for them. It was enough to make you cry, it really was; even if you didn't throw in the equation of being a witch in the bargain.

"Heya, luv, you're lookin' for Ted, right?" said the woman behind the counter with a wide, yellow smile and kindly eyes that were almost obscured by folds of flesh.

"That's right," said Andromedea, drawing herself up a little proudly. "Um. Is he around?"

"He will be, luv, in a minute or two," smiled the woman.

"Um. I'll wait for him then," said Andromedea, gingerly seating herself. She slumped down into a corner and closed her eyes.

_Right. I'm sneaking out of the house at night. Every night. To meet Ted Tonks. Age 26. Occupation: bricklayer. Muggle. Quite obviously muggle. He drinks milky tea and forgets to take the spoon out of it, for god's sake._

Soul searching wasn't Andromedea's forte. Neither was romance, or forbidden love. Such things simply didn't impinge on her consciousness. She was a tall, strapping girl, with sensible, practical ideas and very seldom prone to stomach and soul upsets. But she was tired of pampered heirs paraded in front of her, faces pale and bloodness, souls and mouths thin and humorless. It never bothered her, as such. She simply resolved to remain single.

Then she met Ted Tonks. (Well, actually, she was walking past a construction site and a brick fell on her foot.)

And there you are. There you are indeed.

"Andy!"

She looked up, blushing despite herself. One of the beer-swigging ladies grinned a little, and nudged her companion. "Hullo, Ted," said Andromedea weakly.

"'Ullo!" he gave her a wide, white grin. His face would have been brown and tanned if all those little patches of skin between his widespread freckles disappeared. Ted's mouth was wide and smiling and his eyes were bright, bright blue.

"Ow," said Andromedea suddenly, clutching her stomach.

Ted dropped into the seat, looking as concerned as that perpetually merry face would let him look. "What's up, luv? Where's the pain?"

"Nah, it's just a smidge, it'll go away soon," said Andromedea, breathlessly. Why did her stomach always give a half painful lurch, half estatic swoop, everytime Ted was around?

"Cuppa tea, then?" he said, still looking into her face. "On me."

"Well, we're really breaking out the bank now, aren't we?" laughed Andromedea, putting her hand over his.

He gave her a bright beam, and a tight squeeze that nearly broke all the bones in her fingers. "'M glad you're 'ere," he muttered quickly and quietly before going off to place their order.

Andromedea just stared at the smoky, charred ceiling with a big, stupid grin on her face.


End file.
